by Jayne Bamber
All of my love,
Mary Bennet Darcy
***
Gracechurch Street, London
6 May, 1810
Dear Mary,
Your birthday present arrived early this year – thank you for the handkerchiefs you sent; they are positively lovely. I will cherish them all, perhaps especially the one Jane made. It was very good of her, and it warmed my heart to receive it on what had been a rather awful day.
Aunt Olivia is expecting another babe in the autumn, and she has been ill quite frequently. Uncle Edward is so very delighted, he seems ten years younger, and my aunt as well. Oh my goodness, I hope you are not reading this letter aloud to anyone, it is meant to be a secret for a little while longer!
I suffer from a rather different malady – a plague of gentlemen callers, for I am nearly nineteen now, and both of our uncles are quite fed up with me for not being keen on anyone yet. I have only been to a few balls and parties, and I have made some new acquaintances, but the only bit of it I really enjoy is sketching so many different characters – the human race is certainly an amusing one, is it not? It is also, unfortunately, not one that is abundant with rich, handsome, gentlemen who desire to sweep an outspoken Cheapside girl of unusual origins and ready opinions off her feet!
Fortunately Aunt Olivia’s condition has caused her enthusiasm for my cause to wane, and I have recently taken Aunt Phyllis into my confidence, and it has done me such good to unburden myself as I have never been able to before. Charlotte and Richard understand me well enough, but now Richard has gone off to war and Charlotte has a great many cares of her own. We are for Weymouth this summer, Charlotte and I, with John and his wife, and I am eagerly awaiting my escape. Perhaps you and Mamma might join us?
Aunt Phyllis has lent me her support in taking my first Season rather slowly – she understands I have certain apprehensions about the marriage state, and we had a good long chat about it one snowy night at Matlock House last month. I told her things I had never dared put into words, and she in turn told me a great many things I did not know – about the past – things that shed a new light on parts of my life that have been very troubling. I wish very much I might share some of this with you, and with Jane and Mamma too, if they could bear it. Do give them my love.
Your loving sister,
Lizzy
***
Pemberley, Derbyshire
28 November, 1810
Dear Edward,
My old friend, I was heartbroken to hear of Olivia’s passing. I was sitting with Phyllis at Matlock when Henry received your express, and our sister went white as a sheet at the news. I know it was not always right between you, but it must be a devastating loss, her and the child. I can only imagine what poor Lizzy, and the children must be feeling at such a time, and of all people I can well relate to the pain of losing a partner.
Mary and William want us to come to London for Christmas, but Jane is still in such depressed spirits, and I confess I am much the same. If you are as afflicted as I was after George died, I am sure you would not want your relations descending in such a state, and adding to your woes, yet it pains me that this Christmas will make two years since I have seen you, and my dear Lizzy.
She writes Mary and I often, and it has been a great comfort to us both. Even Jane is coming round, and seems genuinely interested in sitting with us when we read a letter from Lizzy, which gives me great hope. Pemberley feels so very gloomy and oppressive of late, and Lizzy’s letters are so bright, it is like opening a window and letting sunshine into my heart – you see how sentimental I am grown. I do wish you would write more, particularly now. I shall worry for you a great deal, but at least I can trust that it will be a comfort for you to have sweet Lizzy at your side.
I find I am grown tired - old, weary, and tired, but I shall write again soon, and hope that you do the same.
All my love,
Anne
***
Gracechurch Street, London
7 January, 1811
Dear Anne,
I find myself more lucid today than I have been for some weeks, and I have been hoping to find the time and presence of mind to write you. I cannot promise my letter will bring you the same cheer as Lizzy’s, and yet you have been my faithful correspondent these seventeen years or more.
You might imagine how I feel, and what my struggle has been since losing Olivia. For better or worse, I loved her, and the child she carried was to be the first of mine – we both wanted it so very much. It has made me think back on Fanny, a troubling thought, given what she said to Madeline and Phyllis before she died. After all these years, there is still a part of my heart yet broken over it all.
I even thought I saw Madeline the other day in Mayfair, with a couple of young ladies at her side. I suppose it is old eyes and a wounded heart playing tricks on me, but perhaps it really was her. The man she married could certainly keep her in such fine clothes, I am sure, and perhaps the girls were her daughters. I never told anyone, but the man she married had three children of his own – his situation was no different than mine. I shall never understand it.
I hear William has resumed his project in Scotland, to help John fix up Nettylmoor. Henry would do better to sell it, I think, but I suspect he has some sentimental attachment to the place. Still, we hope it might tempt Richard to resign his commission and settle down – this family needs a happy marriage to rejoice in.
Your mother sent me a very kind note last month, and I hear she is to come down in a few weeks. She is quite worked up about her fear that Charlotte will end up “on the shelf” and I fear it is only a matter of time before she comes to the same conclusion about our dear girls. Still, she has always been my supporter, and it will be good to see her. Lizzy finds her brand of expression quite inspiring, and I am looking forward to watching her reaction to Lizzy’s new haircut – she has cropped it quite short, and I am told it is quite the fashion in ladies’ magazines. She looks quite fetching, and as Rose is growing quite accomplished in her sketching I shall have her make a little portrait of Lizzy for you, so you can decide for yourself if you like it. I am certain, however, that it will earn her at least three rather severe stomps of Lady Eleanor’s cane when she beholds it.
Well my old friend, I cannot recall when I have last written such a long letter, and I had better leave off while I remain quite sensible.
Yours ever,
EG
***
Pemberley, Derbyshire
25 November, 1811
Dear Lizzy,
We have done it! William has spoken with Uncle Henry, and we are for London this Christmas! After three long years of separation, I am so delighted I shall see you again! Mamma has agreed to it, and I think even Jane is looking forward to the journey. I know they were both hesitant to come down in the summer, while Richard was recovering, but it shall be wonderful to see him too, now that he has recovered. I daresay you all shall scarcely recognize Jane and I, for we are both grown taller, and I hear you have as well – we are all quite grown up now.
Oh Lizzy, I am so very filled with hope that all shall be well in the family at last. We are all out of mourning, and old enough to attend balls and parties. I do hope that finally everything will be as it should again. Mamma and Jane both send their love. I shall keep this letter short, for I shall see you very soon, and tell you a great many more things when I am looking upon your sweet face!
Your loving sister,
Mary
8
December 1811, London
“Damn it, Richard, sell the place in Scotland for all I care, but you’ll not be running off to war again just because your arm is healed. Not now, when Anne is finally bringing the girls down to London. After all the work Darcy has put into the place it would be a shame to let it go, but if the funds will keep you here in England, so be it. But only if you take a wife – you are nearly thirty!”
“Father, I am still on the mend – a little – John is not even out of h
alf-mourning for Lucy.”
“That is no excuse,” the earl replied. “He ought to start looking for a wife again himself, though he would not deign to attend our family meeting. His daughter needs a new mother.”
“Lest history repeat itself,” Sir Edward drawled. Though he schooled his countenance into a studied sort of neutrality, Elizabeth knew by the look in his eyes that he was not best pleased by the direction her Uncle Henry’s visit had taken.
“I am quite firm in the matter,” Uncle Henry carried on, as Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably beside Richard on the sofa, fearing what would inevitably follow. “William and I have put our foot down, and Anne will bring the girls to London for Christmas. Three years of nonsense, and we have nothing to show for it but melancholy – I shall not allow it to continue any longer. I do not blame you, Edward, but even Mary ought to have had a season by now. Think of how it would help Charlotte, to have a pretty cousin by her side.”
Charlotte blanched. “Papa!”
“Well,” Uncle Henry grumbled, giving his daughter an apologetic look. “Have you not said you wished for company at all those balls and parties?”
“Lizzy has come along sometimes….”
Richard drew closer to Elizabeth and laid his hand protectively over hers. “I think you all quite forget what poor Lizzy has suffered, what we all have been through. We have been in mourning for most of the last three years.”
Uncle Henry looked from Richard to Elizabeth with a curious glint in his eye. “To be perfectly honest, I’d not be opposed to a match between the two of you. What do you say, Edward? Phyllis? There is merit to it.”
As Elizabeth glanced at her Uncle Edward with wide eyes and a mounting sense of dread, he answered the earl with a grimace, “If you mean it will keep her money in the family.”
“What I mean is that the two of them have been thick as thieves since you brought her to London! Why should they not marry? With her dowry and the sale of the Scottish pile, they could settle wherever they choose, and they get on better than most couples who meet on the marriage mart....”
“I beg your pardon, Father,” Richard interjected, his hand remaining on Elizabeth’s, “I have been away for years! This has never been discussed before, and I cannot like the subject being broached in such a matter now.”
“Come, come, Richard, you have been back nearly six months, recovering your arm, and who has been faithfully at your side?”
Richard began all the protestations Elizabeth was too stunned to give voice to, and then abruptly fell silent. He pulled her hand toward him, stroking it thoughtfully as he met her eye. “What do you think, Lizzy? We are not so much brother and sister – have you been tending my war wounds, hoping for such an alliance?”
Elizabeth stammered, feeling her heart sink into the pit of her stomach. She knew – or at least, strongly hoped – that he was only jesting, but for once she had no clever retort. Surely Richard, who had indeed been as a brother to her these seven years, was not suddenly proposing to her in a room full of their nearest relations.
“Richard is quite right, this is hardly appropriate talk – not at all how we had intended to broach the subject. There are a great many eligible prospects for all three of the girls, and John and Richard besides. William too. We have begun compiling lists, but nothing need be decided today.”
“Yes, yes,” Uncle Henry conceded. “I do get carried away, but of course there is the whole Season ahead of us yet, and a great deal to accomplish. The separation in this family has gone on long enough, and we are going to be a true family this Christmas, but I’ll be damned if we do not have a few weddings to look forward to at the end of it.”
Elizabeth flinched at her uncle’s language, and glanced back at Richard, trying to gauge his reaction.
“I shall admit the idea has merit, but I do have some questions about these lists,” he said warily.
“Of course you have,” Uncle Henry drawled and rolled his eyes.
Elizabeth looked frantically back at her aunt. “But I have no wish to marry at all! You know I never shall. I thought you understood.”
“Well, of course we have all tried to understand,” Aunt Phyllis replied gently. “We have all been very patient, but of course we hoped you would eventually change your mind.”
“What about me,” came a giggling voice at the corner of the room; Rose had snuck in.
“For Heaven’s sake, child,” Uncle Edward burst. “You were not invited in, young lady!”
Seizing the opportunity to extricate herself from the situation that had quickly become very deeply uncomfortable, Elizabeth sprang up off of the couch and seized her cousin Rose by the hand, dragging the young girl down the corridor and upstairs.
“It’s not fair, Lizzy,” Rose whined as Elizabeth led her up the stairs. “Why can I not come out a year early, and go to balls and parties? You and Jane and Mary and Charlotte shall do everything without me.”
“Your come out is not until next year, and you must understand it may be a little... different. At any rate, perhaps you would do better to think of ways you can show your father that you are ready. If you can stop pulling tricks like you did downstairs just now, they might at least let you dine with the family more this year.”
“Dine with you? I want to dance!”
“Well, ask Cousin Charlotte how well she has liked most of her dance partners, and I daresay you may yet change your mind!” Elizabeth, her hands on Rose’s shoulders, steered her cousin toward her bedroom, and half-teasingly nudged her inside. “I shall ask Aunt Phyllis to bring you dress shopping with us on Friday, if only you stay in your room and give the rest of us some peace!”
Rose scrunched up her face with displeasure, and shut the door in Elizabeth’s face. Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief and went into her own room, desperate to be alone with her thoughts.
It was too much all at once! It was enough to think that she must face Mamma and her sisters again after three years of separation, and though Mary was optimistic, Elizabeth was rather frightened. Would Mamma despise her? Had she sided with Jane? Was Jane really as eager to reconcile as Mary let on?
And now, to all this, she must add the looming threat of marriage. They thought I would change my mind? The idea was insupportable. She had encountered a few hopeful suitors over the years, but none that hadn’t been easily discouraged by her total lack of interest. But Richard?
He had been as a brother to her these last seven years, since the moment he had calmed her tears at Pemberley when she had learned the truth. At least, that is how she had always felt. It was alarming to think that Richard might actually consider her in that way, that his feelings might go beyond familial affection, when the thought had never occurred to her.
“Oh Lizzy, look at you hiding away, vexing yourself; you are always quite determined to do it.” Charlotte peeked in the doorway at Elizabeth before coming into the room and sitting in the window seat next to her. The two had been nearly as close as sisters could ever be since Elizabeth had come to London, and had grown up a great deal since their days of spying on their family at Pemberley. No longer was Charlotte a carefree, mischievous girl, but a thoughtful, pragmatic young woman who had been passed over for several seasons, despite Elizabeth’s loyal belief that her cousin was one of the finest women in London.
Elizabeth knew she had changed, too – she had felt so grown up from such a young age, and her knowledge of her uncle’s unhappy marriage and the alienating tragedies in her family had darkened her once sparkling wit. Aunt Olivia would have wanted her to be bold at such a time, but in truth she could face neither the arrival of her family, nor the prospect of marriage.
“Do not think of marriage,” Charlotte chided her. “You will see how it shall be. My father can scarcely arrange seven marriages all in the space of a single season! Do not dwell on it, I am sure it will come out right. Think of your sisters and your mother. Occupy your time mending your relationship with them, and I daresay you shall have no time for a
courtship.”
“Perhaps you are right. Mary is so sure it shall be well, and I do wish for it. I shall do my best with Jane and Mamma.”
“And William too?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I do not see the point in that – I know he despises me. So much the better. I could never allow him to meddle in my affairs as he has done with poor Jane.”
“And yet I hear he has played a rather large role himself in bringing this Christmas visit about.”
“I cannot think why, except that he hopes to cheer Mamma.”
“He is still your brother, Lizzy.”
“Indeed he is not! Whatever regard Jane and Mary have for him, I do not share it. He did not deign to trouble himself over his sisters until long after I went away. It hardly matters – I do not care a whit.”
“Oh yes, I can see that.”
There was a knock on Elizabeth’s door. “Not now, Rose,” Elizabeth cried, and muttered under her breath.
Aunt Phyllis opened the door and slipped into the room. “Richard has asked me to convey his apologies, if he gave you any alarm, Lizzy.”
“But of course he – no, no. It is well, aunt. I am sure he was just as surprised as I was.”
“Were you really so shocked? You have never thought of it, not even recently? You have been very diligent in visiting since he has been home.”
“I was only trying to help his recovery! He is like a brother to me.”
“Well, I am sorry your uncle sprang it on you like that. You know how worked up he gets when he has some scheme in his head, but nothing is certain just yet, my dear. Only think on it is all we ask. Perhaps if you start to consider Richard in a different light... well, he had not seen you in years, until he came home injured, and suddenly you were a woman grown, and always at his side….”